Unspoken
by The Fifth Champion
Summary: Scorned for being a firebender, even as one inactive in the war, Aang and his companions hesitantly bring a mute girl into their group. But even the most innocent of souls can contain dark secrets...
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Most unfortunately, I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender. Though if I did, it would probably be called Prince Zuko: The Banished Firebender.

Author's Note: Hey! Now—uh—please don't all kill me for being # 1 procrastinator of the year! I know I've got to pull myself together and start getting things done _quickly—_it's absolutely horrible how long it took me to update this. Please, forgive me! School and other petty things also got in the way of updating this, but now I'm going to make a definite attempt to update faster.

For any of you continuing to read 'Unspoken,' the first chapter is basically the same as it was before. The only difference is that I added a lot more description and made it take place near more current episodes. **Instead of them going to the North Pole, they are going to Ba Sing Se. This takes place in the Second Season and there WILL be spoilers. Take caution. **

To anyone still reading, enjoy! And thank you for being so patient! I'll try not to disappoint you with long lapses in between chapters again. And please forgive any errors. I _do _read over my work, but errors in grammar always seem to elude me.

* * *

"_Ah, how easily innocence is corrupted…when the flame sputters and dies…"_

**UNSPOKEN**

_Sympathy for a Stranger _

The huge bison grazed quite lazily across the late afternoon sky, a fat white dot against a sea of dusty blue, now and then emitting deep, rumbling groans that shook its riders. It gave a rough snort from its large nostrils, and plunged dangerously closer to the forest of evergreens beneath them, before reeling itself almost painfully back up.

"Easy, Appa," Aang spoke in a soft, pacifying voice. He patted the creature's gigantic, fluffy head—battling with the intense desire to sprawl across it and fall into a deep slumber. His gray eyes felt sore and gritty, and his tense muscles had taken to screaming whenever he preformed even the slightest movement. His once bright mind had been dulled into a hazed jumble of whirling thoughts and emotions. They moved so fast, so sudden, that he didn't know where they began or ended. He could barely decipher them.

"I promise I'll get you something to eat as soon as we make camp," he finished assuring the bison.

"_Him?" _Sokka whined indignantly, massaging his grumbling stomach. "I'm about to die of starvation over here!"

Behind the young warrior, a slight quirk elevated his sister's lips. The soft breath of wind ruffled her brown hair—so similar to her brother's—as she stroked their jittery pet lemur, Momo, between its large ears. Brushing a strand behind her ear, she grabbed a bag and sent Momo scampering towards Aang's shoulder.

"Well, we still have a few loaves of bread left," she started, "but we should probably save them–"

The girl was cut off abruptly when Sokka lurched forward, grappling desperately for the half-empty sack.

"Katara, give it _here!" _

"No!" His sister cried, pulling the bag out of harm's way. "We don't have that much left; it can't be wasted just because you always have to stuff your face!"

"I do _not _always stuff my face!"

"Do so!"

"Do not!"

"Alright," Aang replied quickly, turning over to his comrades' feud. The twelve-year old boy held up his hands, both which, as always, bore the light blue tattoos of an arrow, just like the one printed across his bald scalp. A smile peeped out of the corners of his lips. He knew he shouldn't, but he loved it when Katara and Sokka quarreled. It reminded him of times when life seemed lighter and less serious.

"Sokka, we'll be making camp soon, so you can get something to eat then. And Katara, I'm sure we'll be able to replenish our supplies once we make camp. There are lots of nuts and berries near these woods."

Both nodded, though rather stiffly, and each pair of blue eyes remained hard as they broke away their icy glare. Aang's smile widened. The only thing more satisfying than watching his friends quibble was knowing that he was the one responsible for breaking their arguments up. After all, that was his job as the Avatar, wasn't it? To make peace?

The two were probably just on edge for the same reason he was—the Siege at the North Pole. Remnants of the battle still haunted Aang at night, and he was aware of how harshly the combat had scarred Katara, how difficult Yue's death must have been for Sokka. But they all merely huddled together and sealed their stubborn lips shut. Duty forced them to cope with their inner troubles, rather than simply wallowing in neck-deep nightmares.

That was why it was so essential for him—for the Avatar—to master all four elements before the summer ended. If he didn't in time, if he didn't stop the war, the consequences would be severe…

The boy knocked the troublesome thoughts out of his head. They always left him with a painful knot in the pit of his stomach, and he had worried enough for the day. He wished he could find something _fun _to think about, but his mind remained dull and useless. Instead, he merely peered over Appa's downy head, squinting for any signs of a clearing.

"Hey, look, a town!" Sokka called, pointing a tan finger towards the east. "We won't even need to make camp tonight!"

Appa lurched happily forward, zooming closer to the tiny clearing before the town. Katara screamed and Sokka let out a muffled sound somewhere between a groan and a shriek; Aang gave a giggling squeal of delight. Appa came to a heavy thud and the trio clambered off, grateful to once again be on land. Sokka was already racing towards the tiny town, a patched, brown bag hitched over his shoulder.

"Give that bread back, you obnoxious thief!" Katara yelled, bolting after him. Aang shrugged his shoulders, sending Momo awry, and sighed openly._ 'I guess you can't always keep them from fighting,' _he thought earnestly as he sped up after them.

* * *

The town turned out to be a small, tight-knit sect from the Earth Kingdom, though very few had the ability to bend rock. The children that sprinted around them were clad in weathered, ragged clothing and had faces smeared with dirt. Adults shuffled along reluctantly behind them, towing woven baskets laden with fruits that looked dry and unsweetened. Houses jutted up from long, bland meadows, brown and shambled against the darkling blue sky. 

Still, it was better than camping in the forest.

Sokka's eyes were wide and hungry as they passed a group of creaky stands, brimming with some sort of hardened bread wrapped in waxy paper. His empty stomach gave a howl of discontent, and he shot Katara a begrudging glare. She merely grinned.

"Why can't we get something to eat _now?" _He flailed his arms in exasperation, loosed a grunt similar to Appa's, and kicked at the stony ground impatiently. Much to his misfortune, he failed to notice the rather large rock perched directly ahead of him—

Until his foot collided with it.

"Ah—_ugh!"_

Sokka grabbed his now throbbing toe, hissing through his teeth as he hopped on one foot. Katara threw her head back and laughed, her long braid rippling in a slightly harsher breeze. Dusk had iced the air.

"That's what you get for being greedy, oh mighty brother!"

Sokka flung her a glare shaper than a hardened dagger, but Katara's clear gaze had already strayed from him. Her laughter seemed to die on her lips, and a strangely dark look flitted across her face, as quick and elusive as a phantom.

"What's going on over there?"

Sokka and Aang turned their attention over to the tiny shop Katara was looking at, its windows' dingy and a lopsided sign hanging sadly from its peeling door. Despite its tattered appearance, it looked like more than half the town had swarmed all about it, jeering and spitting at something in the very heart of the crowd.

The trio exchanged glances; it was strange how quickly they were able to reach their mutual agreement. Something about this situation was terribly wrong. The feeling of immortality hung over the area like a dark, quivering shadow, carving the villager's faces into something inhuman and unrecognizable.

"What's going on?" Sokka asked a bystander garbed in ragged brown robes.

"A firebender tried to sneak into our village!" the man spat in disgust, teetering on the tips of his toes to see over numerous heads.

"Only one?" Katara questioned skeptically. The man simply nodded, no longer acknowledging the group's presence.

"Let's get a closer look." Sokka murmured, pushing his way through the thick horde of people. He finally broke free into the very inner circle, engulfed by hissing citizens, their faces creased in hatred and hands clenched with rage. A young man was flinging bits of moldy trash and dirt.

Sokka turned his glare warily to the subject of their anger; a moment later he wished he hadn't. A feeling of total sickness crashed into him, hot and sticky, burning his ears and knotting his stomach. He whipped his head away, determined to erase such a site from his memory, but the image was now charred into his brain, like black upon white paper.

Crammed into a small corner, shuddering in a crumpled heap was not a bulky Fire Nation warrior, but a mere girl. Her face was pressed against the filthy folds of her shredded skirt, but her pale arms were littered with numerous cuts and scars. Atop her head was a tangled mop of bloody red hair, hanging around her head like frayed ribbons. Her thin frame was limp and shaking convulsively.

Sokka felt someone brush past him, and rather numbly recognized his sister's presence.

"Stop it!" Katara yelled out shrilly. "Stop it–she's just a girl!"

"Just a girl?" mimicked a coarse woman with stringy, brown hair. "She must be a spy! I saw her bending fire!"

From the floor, the girl let out a low, stifled moan. Aang's gentle gray eyes flicked from her to the woman's face in an instant.

"What was she trying to do?" he asked curtly.

The woman opened her mouth, but closed it, suddenly appearing awkward and unsure of herself.

"Well, she...she was trying to rekindle her camp's fire, but– "

"And that deserves _this _punishment?" Sokka cut in. He had intended for his voice to come out in a thunderous bellow, but instead it was soft, whispery, and threaded with a slight tremor. But each word was soaked with deepest repulse, the purest dislike, so that each syllable was painful on the people's ears.

Scenes from long ago flashed before Sokka's eyes. That wretched rebel, Jet, attacking a lone, elderly man simply for being of the Fire Nation. This was just the same; this was slaughter of the innocent. He couldn't stand it.

"She's done nothing to you, but still you ridicule her?" He continued in a louder voice. "Making her suffer for being born into a certain nation? Things outside her control?"

The throng turned upon him like a pack of angry wolves, fury burning in their eyes. They scorned this girl for being born into a nation of fire—yet here they were, kindling their own flame with smothering amounts of loath. It burnt all humanity and compassion.

"Her type has been over-taxing us for years!" A man snarled over the confused babble. "They took my son away!" Another villager shrieked.

The girl began to moan and rock herself, softly, back and forth.

The action brought their attention back towards her. The citizens' words had ignited their own thickening hatred, and they eager to resume tormenting their enemy.

"_Enough!" _A sharp voice cut through the air. Aang stomped his foot heatedly on the floor, his soft eyes glazed over in an icy sheen. "I'm the Avatar, and I'm here to make peace! Believe me, I know about all the bad things the Fire Nation has committed. They murdered and wiped out my entire people. But that doesn't mean this girl, personally, has done anything wrong. If she hasn't hurt anyone, I _demand _you to let her go!"

His voice resounded loud in the suddenly quiet area.

The girl lifted her head a fraction of an inch, revealing a small sliver of an extremely green eye, but she buried it back in her knees the moment the crowd's accusing stares turned upon her.

"How do we know you're the actual Avatar?" The rough, stringy-haired woman from before barked. "He was an Airbender that hasn't been seen for over a hundred years. The Avatar is _dead!_ He was probably killed along with all the other Airbenders who died in that Fire Nation raid. Besides, what a skinny, little boy you are. How can this be possible?"

Her words were followed by a murmur of agreement.

Aang gave a furious snort, his face contorted in a dark anger unnatural for such pure, kindly features. The air surrounding him began to quiver and quake dangerously, and he jumped agilely into the sky, lifted by the winds he controlled, and flipped back down onto the ground, his eyes narrowed coldly at the townspeople.

"I _am _the Avatar!"

There were dull, feverish whispers rippling throughout the throng of people now, all of whom were gaping at the twelve-year old before them in utter shock. Slowly, the stringy-haired woman staggered backwards and fled. A few people eyed her nervously over their shoulders, and the horde began to thin somewhat. A handful of people, however, stayed rooted to their spots.

"A-Avatar, please forgive me." The man who had first informed them of the girl's presence whimpered. He bent his head in a jerky bow and scuttled away. Those who had stayed behind asked for forgiveness in a manner very much the same, though the confused shame in their eyes revealed their sorrow to be genuine. As the last person departed, Aang bent down to the huddled girl's height, smiling gently.

"It's okay," he replied. "They're all gone now, you can come out."

The girl lifted her pale face slowly, framed by tendrils of the deepest blood red, and her lips twitched into what might have been a ghost of a smile.

But what took the trio aback were her piercing, almost unsettling, green eyes. They were sharper and brighter than jade, seemingly glowing in their sockets. Sokka couldn't help but stare at the way they shimmered and sparked in the hazy dark falling around them.

She placed her bruised hand over her heart as she looked up at them, eyes wide and grateful.

"Erm...what?" Sokka asked confusedly, her strange motions shattering his musing. He scratched the back of his almost entirely shaved head—apart from the brown ponytail he always wore—and frowned openly at her.

But the girl pressed her hand still firmer against her heart, as if begging for them to understand. Even so, she did not utter a single word.

"I think she's trying to thank us," Katara replied slowly, turning over to the foreigner. "Is that it?"

She nodded brightly, beaming at the brunette's success.

"Can't you speak?" Aang asked, gazing at her quizzically.

The girl widened her penetrating eyes as though she had just been threatened, shaking her head fervently to make her point.

"Alright," Sokka replied quickly, waving her nervousness out of the way with his hand. "You can't speak–that's okay."

He turned over to Katara, whispering lowly out of the corner of his mouth. "What are we going to do with her?"

"Take her with us!" Aang replied, scampering back over to his friends. "What do you think we're going to do? Leave her here?"

Sokka shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"I...don't know. We're just going to drag her all the way over to Ba Sing Se? We've met other people, but we've never taken them along. How do we know we can trust her?"

"_Sokka_!" Katara chided. "You hypocrite. Didn't you just scold all those people for scorning her? And now _you_ don't trust her?"

Sokka pouted, crossing his arms moodily over his chest.

"I'm not saying it because she's a firebender. I'm just saying we don't know anything about her, or anyone for that matter. Everyone here's a stranger to us!"

Aang peered over at the thin, ragged female, her poorly sewn dress slashed and streaked with dirt. Her hair was scraggly and uncombed, falling in numerous strands before her unhealthily whiten face. It looked like a halo of blood. There was nothing about her that would make her appear even remotely untrustworthy or dangerous.

"Come on, Sokka," he whined pleadingly. "We _have _to bring her with us. She has no where else to go."

He gazed up at the pair with large, almost teary gray eyes, resonating with utter hope and compassion. Katara tugged nervously on her tightly braided hair, staring over Aang's shoulder to the mute girl.

Drawing a breath to steady her nerves, she broke away from their small circle and kneeled down to the redhead's height, just as the Avatar had done a few moments ago.

"Where's your family?" Katara asked softly. "Do you have one?"

The words sounded cold and cruel on her tongue, no matter how gently she tried to say them. Katara was suddenly conscious of the weight her mother's necklace gave off, strung around her neck.

_The only fragment of her mother she possessed now... _

The brunette wondered regretfully if this girl too could only cling onto a foolish scrap of jewelry to recall wistful memories of her dispersed family.

As if Katara had thrown daggers, the foreigner cringed painfully at her words, her milky face shadowed in past events unknown. Her brilliant eyes dimmed as they trailed away from Katara, wide and empty. Slowly, tediously, her head nudged from left to right.

"Then that settles it," Aang said promptly. "We're taking her with us."

For the first time, the girl's eyes stretched in realization of what they were talking about. She began shaking her head wildly, locks of hair flying, hands held up to emphasize her strong feelings.

"It's fine," Aang said sweetly. "You won't be a burden or anything."

Another phantomlike smile flickered across the girl's lips, but her eyes darted worriedly to Sokka, whose crossed arms and stiff mouth gave away his begrudging emotions. Upon seeing her face, however, his expression softened, and he held out his hand to help her up.

"Yeah, it'll be fine." he assured her in a tone that was only slightly flat.

The girl stumbled on weakened legs, but gradually began trudging forward, though there were times when she lost her balance and caught onto Sokka's wrist for support.

The young warrior turned over to her once, and noticed that for the first time she was smiling a true, natural smile–not the ghostly facades she had given off back by the shop.

The first time he realized how entirely beautiful she was had to be when she smiled.


	2. Shadows And Longings

Disclaimer: I—I _don't _own Avatar: The Last Airbender! (_breaks into hysterical sobs) _There, happy? You got me to say it!

Author's Note: **For any of you that just skipped to chapter two…THIS STORY NOW TAKES PLACE IN THE SECOND SEASON. INSTEAD OF GOING TO THE NORTH POLE, THEY ARE GOING TO BA SING SE. THERE _WILL_ BE SPOILERS. TAKE CAUTION! **

Please enjoy the story! And forgive me for the long lapse in updates! I'm trying hard not to do it again.

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO**

_Shadows and Longings _

_"Do you want to know what fire feels like, General? It burns will all the passion of one's heart. And right now, mine's breaking." _

Something was burning. Its hot, acrid smell tainted the air with its stench—veiled the wind with its ashy aroma. She couldn't breathe in its thick, putrid odor.

Blaring, wicked flames whipped swiftly about her, imprisoning her within a fiery chamber of torture, of _hell, _mocking in their flickering stance. She could hear their low, hissing voices, sputtering her name, whispering their evil delights. She heard their shrieks pounding in her eardrums—or, perhaps—_someone was screaming…_

Smoke fell overhead like a looming curtain, wrapping her tight in its dry folds and smothering her. She gasped and strained her ringing ears, listening to the ugly screeches bellowing through the air. She knew she had to reach the victim of this fire's wrath.

But no matter how quick, how lithe her slender body was, the flames only flared and laughed at her in rasping voices. She cried out in anguish, stumbling over something that felt soft and plushy beneath her bare feet.

The towering fire cast a red shadow over the charred remains of a dead man. His beard had been reduced to sizzling whiskers and his tender skin had already been bitten by the flames. His eyes were large, pearly, and empty as glass.

She couldn't feel herself as she looked upon the man.

She was burning with the fire.

She _was _the fire.

And no one heard her scream.

* * *

Sokka heard a scream. 

His fatigued body was pulled erect in his sleeping bag, thin circles tracing themselves underneath his eyelids, and fingers keen and swift as they clutched his boomerang's cold handle. His small amount of brown hair had been freed of its ponytail and was now flopping noiselessly in the wind.

Another scream joined the first; it was shrilly and searing in the cold night air, the sound so high-pitched it was sawing at his reluctant eardrums. Grimacing and still clutching his boomerang for protection, Sokka climbed to his stiff feet and padded around the campsite.

His sleepy brain was moving slow and sluggishly. His consciousness seemed hesitant to give in to reality, and he felt like he was lost in a fog of damp shadows, rather then camping in a dark forest clearing.

He could still, however, make out the clear voice cutting through the inky air around him. It sounded gentle and melodious, contorted and maimed only by the rough screeches it was forced to produce.

Sokka knew that voice. He could feel it tugging lightly on the edges of his memories, almost nagging in its attempt to force the warrior's hazed mind to function. But the darkness that fell around him was too thick and comfortable, and Sokka's eyes were glazed and heavy—if only the shadows would thin, his gritty eyes brighten, then perhaps he could decipher _who _it was he was recalling.

_And if only the moon would cast down a harsher glare, rather then sprinkling such silvery ribbons of light. For how gentle was its whitish glow, like a cool hand caressing his face… _

Sokka's tired eyes snapped open. He knew that voice. Knew that soft, delicate pitch—the beautiful tinkle of its laugh and the utter wrongness of its scream. His heart was suddenly pounding loud and forcefully against his ribcage. He could barely breathe through such a tight throat.

But he knew who it was. The girl he had been dreaming about ever since her untimely death, her untimely sacrifice—

It was Princess Yue.

Sokka strained his ringing ears, his breath rasping rough in his throat, and followed the echoing screams. He wanted to run but instead his footfalls were slow and tedious against the earthy ground, feigning calmness as his thoughts raced.

Why was Yue screaming? _What was wrong?_ His heart thumped painfully in his throat. He hadn't been able to save her last time, hadn't been able to hold secure enough in his clingy, desperate grip. Instead, he had watched her slip through his insufficient grasp in a wisp of white smoke. He had merely watched while she sacrificed herself for the moon spirit.

But this time, that would not happen. He would save her this time. He would hold on tighter.

But when he finally approached the source the screams, he caught no sight of snowy white hair. There was no pair of crystal blue eyes shimmering with grace or pinkish lips curved in a royal smile. Instead, he found himself staring at a matted mess of thick ruby hair and an ashen face contorted with fear.

He found himself staring at a strange, mute girl from an enemy nation.

Disappointment crashed down upon Sokka—thick, cold, and smothering. It weighed on his chest like a heavy burden, numbing his heart and icing his insides. His eyes felt strangely hot in his cold face, the image of the girl surreal in the dark.

"Wake up."

His voice sounded flat and impassive. He hated it.

The girl let out a sputtering gasp and shot upward, her green eyes vivid and penetrating in the dense shadows. Her gaze turned towards Sokka, silhouetted in the faint moonlight, clutching his gleaming boomerang with loose fingers. A neon fork of lighting streaked across the inky sky, marring its perfect smoothness as it framed the warrior's surly features in an eerie halo of static light.

The girl shrunk against a rotten tree trunk and released a piercing wail.

The world, momentarily muted and silent, seemed to flicker abruptly into life. Sokka jumped as his formally deaf ears opened up to sound once more; painfully aware of how shrill the girl's shriek was against the dull rustle of the forest. He had to suck an audible breath of air to ease the irritating throb in his temples.

"_Shush!_ Wait—stop—screaming—"

He dropped his boomerang and held up empty hands, hoping to pacify the girl's fears, but she continued to sob and edge further away from him. At this rate, she would wake up not only Aang and Katara, but every resident in that tiny Earth village, too. The town had refused to give lodging to anyone who spoke out for the lone firebender. Even the one's who had begged Aang for forgiveness were reluctant to be seen in public with them. The angriest civilians of the village had even gone enough to say that if Aang and his friends ever disturbed them again, the consequences would be more than severe. Panicking, Sokka fell to his knees and grabbed the foreigner's wrists in an act to stifle her.

"I'm—_not—_going—to—hurt you!" Sokka hissed in an urgent voice. She continued to writhe and twist in his grip. "Don't you remember me? I saved you from that crowd today! Remember, with the Avatar?"

Avatar. The word halted her frantic defiance midstream, as if relieving her, so that her thin wrists suddenly hung slack in his hands. She stared up at him through wide, vivid orbs that reflected the moonlight into a silvery-emerald hue. The crumpled bits of leaf and twig that flecked her thick red tresses gave her the appearance of someone wild and uncivilized.

For a moment, Sokka actually believed she was going to say something. Instead, she simply tipped her head forward until her chin thudded against her chest and began to cry.

The action left Sokka stunned. He hadn't expected this. Yet there the girl sat, quivering in a tattered heap, with tears dripping down her dirty face. He let go of her wrists and scratched the back of his head awkwardly, his quizzed mind floundering over what to do.

Finally, he managed to mutter: "Hey…uh…don't cry…"

At the sound of his feeble suggestion, the girl's face snapped upright, wet with tears and pale in the black darkness that surrounded them. Sokka could have sworn he saw her lips twitch into another phantomlike smile, but it seemed fade away before he even knew it was there. Dusting off the earthy ground beneath them, the girl bent low and scribbled something into the slightly hardened soil.

_Forgive me for startling you. _

The words were scrawled in messy, slanted symbols. Sokka glanced back at her, confused and shocked, as she brushed away a tear somewhat shamefully with her slender finger. Noting her bedraggled appearance, Sokka had assumed that the girl had thrived off the streets all her life and knew nothing of how to write in formal characters. He found himself grateful that they now had some form of communication. But before he could even answer, the girl had wiped away her message and was jotting down something anew.

_I was suffering from a nightmare and your image frightened me in the dark. I did not immediately remember you or your kind deed. _

The girl paused, looking pensive. Loosing a soft sigh, she continued to scribble into the ground.

_I have been running from people a long while. It has almost become instinct. _

Sokka blinked as the morbid piece of information sunk in. He could almost picture her voice in his mind, soft yet bitter, heavy with forbidden times she dare not speak of. He gazed into her eyes and knew people had maimed her soul as well as her body.

"It's alright," His voice sounded strangely loud in the silence. "I understand. Is that why you started crying?"

The girl's face twisted into a sour expression. For a moment, Sokka thought he had offended her, but she bent over once more and scripted something with a quick finger.

_I cry over many petty things. Though enrolled in no army, war has changed me._

The wind whistled in a low moan. It ruffled through the girl's crimson locks and tugged on the frayed ends of her clothing. Despite her disheveled appearance, Sokka couldn't help but acknowledge how elegant she seemed in the silver moonlight. Flustered, he tried to shove the thought away.

"War changes many people," he replied. "Wait until Aang and Katara wake up, they'll tell you. People die and others get hurt—"

He stopped when he saw her flinch. Her bright eyes seem to dull in an echo of some past torment. Empathy flooded his insides as he looked over her quieted, shadowed face, riddled with despair and misery. He knew what loss and deprivation could do to a person. How it ate away at you until there was a hollow chasm where a shard of your soul should be.

Silence reigned.

"Listen, you've had it rough," Sokka replied slowly, carefully. "Let's go back to sleep for now, we'll get something to eat in the morning…"

But the girl clung onto his hand as if in desperation, quickly jotting another sentence into the earthy floor with her free hand.

_Why do you carry a weapon?_

The question caught the young warrior off guard. He gazed into her wide, wavering eyes—a firebender's eyes—and only saw innocence. He hardly felt the wistful smile that played across his lips.

"There was a time when my father carried it," he spoke as he hefted the gleaming white boomerang. "Now I carry it to protect the ones I love. I heard a scream and grabbed it, expecting trouble. See? War has changed me too."

Sokka saw the girl's huge eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His insides immediately twisted in guilt, but then he noticed the gentle admiration kindling in her features. A single tear rolled down her pale, dirt-smeared cheek.

_You are very brave. _

The warrior stared at the words scribbled into the ground. He thought of Yue.

"No, not really…I mean, I _try _but—it's just—I—" Sokka broke off, shaking his head. He didn't expect this mute stranger to understand his confused emotions, nor did he expect her to appreciate the burden of carrying his scars alongside her own. He watched as she eyed him imploringly, her red lips hanging in a subtle frown.

_What is your name? _She finally scripted into the ground.

Why was such a simple question suddenly potent with so much emotion? Like it was the carrier of some sort of hidden message too powerful for him to decipher, yet mystifying enough for him to feel. For a moment, he thought his dry throat had closed up against him.

"Sokka," he answered.

The moon bathed the girl in silver light.

_I am Sayrea. _

* * *

_"Sing me a song, Sayrea, would you? Just like before, when fire could throw back such cold shadows. Please, sing me a song…before the flame fades and I die." _

Sayrea jumped up. Her heart was thumping painfully and her head was roaring in a wild crescendo of intertwining voices. The bright world around her thinned and swam before her eyes in colored dots and wispy strips of light. Everything was blurred, smeared; confused.

"You're finally awake!" A voice cheered jovially. "Great!"

A round, young face poked up inches from her own, a lopsided grin tugging at a corner of his mouth, gray orbs brimming with good-natured excitement. They shimmered like a thick mist.

_The Avatar! _The word ripped through Sayrea's brain with the force of a thrown dagger. She felt her shallow breath catch in her throat as she stared at him, so small and untainted, as if the brutal touch of war had not yet bruised him. A vague pain pulsated in the very center of her heart; she wanted to embrace him for that reason alone—wanted to cling onto such sweet, pure innocence.

Instead, she merely tensed. What if such pureness was feigned? Her superiors had often spun dark tales of the infamous Avatar—the ancient shadow of a man—gifted with immense power and cursed with ruthless cruelty.

"The Avatar seeks to smite us all,"A soldier had advised her once. "He cares nothing for our Nation."

But the boy situated before her painted such a softer, lighter image. His toothy grin never wavered and his shining eyes refused to dim as they met her teary green ones. No façade had cloaked the valiant words he had uttered yesterday.

_"Your Nation's brimming with murders and liars…and that is why I killed him." _

Abruptly, Sayrea felt her throat close up. She couldn't breathe.

_"…in penance for your Nation's sins, he died…" _

The scenes playing out before her suddenly seemed alien and untouchable. The strangers that towered around her were grand, majestic, _clean—_while she was filthy and pathetic as she groveled at their feet. Her clothes hung on her spindly body in frayed rags, while their spotless garments flowed elegantly to fit their magnificent forms. Her unruly hair fell about her pale face in an untamed tangle of bloody tresses; everything about these strangers was trimmed, perfect; picturesque.

She could not mar such beautiful purity.

_"…in penance…your sins…he died…" _

"Are you okay?"

Reality flickered back into life. Sayrea snapped her head up in surprise, her brain a whirlwind of confusion, and jolted when she found that Sokka's face had replaced the Avatar's. His brows were knitted together in worry as his eyes panned over her. His piercing cerulean gaze drew her into icy depths.

She heard the haunting whispers in her mind retreat, until her nightmarish memory lay safely dormant once more. As if they were afraid of Sokka's presence.

_"…protect me from my nightmares…" _

"Sayrea, are you okay?" The warrior repeated once again, delicate yet sterner than before. She felt a strange warmth spread throughout her entire body when he said her name; it seemed to flow, so naturally, off his tongue—as if he were meant to say it. It reminded her of someone she used to know.

_He _reminded her of someone she used to know. Someone—someone that—

_"No!" _A hushed voice chided in her mind. _"It never happened! Never! You won't think about it! If you think about it, you'll believe it, and then it will come true!"_

"…_you've always been alone."_

Sayrea felt her lips twitch, but she forced them into a restrained smile. Glancing up somewhat wistfully at Sokka's face, she ignored the whispered echoes in her mind and nodded.

* * *

Author's Note: Next chapter should have more action. This chapter is sort of getting into Sayrea's personality and setting up things for the future. There were some hints about Sayrea's past—I hope the random quotes weren't too confusing, but they're suppose to be mysterious. If you have any ideas on what they might mean, please don't hesitate to tell me! Read and review, please! 


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